My dear sweet husband should refer to this weblog entry whenever he feels the urge to play soccer.

Hang in there.

I don't know which two rooms you are stuck in, but if you can get to the video phone we can talk that way.

The Move is Done, pending unpacking :P

Have you thought about writing? As in, personal journaling, or something creative? And with paper and pencil/pen as opposed to typing?

Just a suggestion.

Run down the street and shed the braces like Forrest Gump.

Argh! I entirely understand how you feel. There's something truly torturous about sitting in one place, looking around at everything that could be done, and being unable to move.

Before I was medicated for morning sickness, I'd spend long periods of time sitting on a chair in the bathroom waiting to throw up. Any room with harvest gold fixtures deserves to be hated, but during that time I despised it at a whole new level.

And I can't recommend daytime TV, except for a brief and odd obsession with Perry Mason during that time. ("Yes, it was me! I did it. I hated him.") You do learn some things being trapped in bed, though. For example, the sugar cerals don't advertise any longer that they're part of a "nutritious" or "complete" breakfast. Now they're part of a "good" breakfast.

Unfortunately, I suppose your knee will do what it will do, but I do hope that you start feeling better otherwise.

Here's how I've coped with the blackest of funks (though I've by no means elminated it).

When Kris left this morning at 7 a.m. this morning, I got up and hobbled around the house, cleaning in s-l-o-w motion. Move this book to the library. Move that sweatshirt to the laundry. Move the other sweatshirt to the bedroom. All while taking ginger steps aided by the cane.

I'd had enough of this after an hour, though there's still plent more to do, so I sat and watched VH1's Behind the Music episode about Styx, one of my favorite bands from junior high and high school (and even college). Interesting stuff. But sitting there, on the love seat, re-inforced the notion I was going stir crazy.

I took a turn outside, but the all of the yardwork that's going undone simply got me down. I came inside and considered playing a computer game. That was unappealing, though, and I knew if I started I'd never stop. So I called the shop and had somebody come pick me up.

I'd hoped that Custom Box would provide a needed change of pace, that I'd be able mobile enough to contribute. Well, it's slow again, apparently, and the phones weren't ringing, and the program I tried to debug just seemed like so much jarble, and I felt just as claustophobic in my office as I did in my bedroom.

I started to lose it. I e-mailed Kris. I started to bawl. Kris called, and she did her best to comfort me, but my funk was just to deep.

I stuck it out for two hours before I called Mom to have her take me home.

"What can I do to save myself?" I wondered. My mood was dark, very dark. I reasoned that there was only one true source of my sour mood: my injured knee. What could I do to make my mood less sour, to help the knee?

It seems to me that it is of upmost importance that I follow every bit of physical therapy, especially the continuous passive motion machine. The machine may drive me nuts, yes, because I feel trapped in it, but a bit of time invested now ought to pay dividends in the long run. For the first ten days after the surgery, I did very well at exercising in it, but I didn't use it Sunday, and used it only very little on Monday.

So: #1, get in that continuous passive motion machine.

Another thing that's causing me woe are these goddamn stinky-ass pads and braces I've had to wear. They're foul. They stink, they stick to my skin, they make me feel confined. I tried to use the CPM machine without the braces last night, but stopped because the knee felt a bit googly. So what? I reasoned that if I started low (at maybe 30 degrees flexion) and worked up five degrees every half hour, I ought to be able to work into some decent flexion despite the googly feeling in the knee.

Thus: #2, take off those stinky, sticky braces.

All this time inside the house is beating me down, too. It's beautiful outside, and I'd like to be out there. But how to do that? I could find the extension cord and set the CPM machine in the middle of the yard, but when I tried to lift it, I realized that I'd never make that journey.

Okay: #3, open the bedroom shades so that I could look out at the street. (Whee!)

My concentration now is almost nil because I'm too distracted thinking about how miserable I am. Reading a book is out of the question; I can barely read a comic book. But what about watching a movie? I can do that in bits and pieces, at least, and this would be a good opportunity to watch one or more of my comfort films:

So: #4, get Amelie and When Harry Met Sally ready to watch.

So, here I am, in bed again, strapped to the continuous passive motion machine. I managed to set the machine up, remove my braces, and strap myself in all by myself. The knee does feel a little googly, and I do feel a little claustophobic, but I think my depression has stabilized. Simon is by my side, watching the traffic outside. I have some grapes in case I get hungry, some water in case I get thirsty, and the phone in case of emergency.

Now it's time to see if the fabulous destiny of Amelie Poulin can rescue my spirits yet again.

JD do you have photos that need organized and put into albums? That might be something you could do. Do ya like crossword puzzles? Do you have a stack of magazines or articles you've cut out that you have never gotten around to reading? Maybe you have old files of house hold bills that you could sort through since you can't do anything else. I love putting puzzles together. Maybe you could find a cool puzzle. I have a great one of a bag of spilled gold coins. I'm not a man so it's hard to know what a man might find to do. If you were a woman i'd have all sorts of ideas: go through recipe books to find new recipes, knit, crochet, have kids drawers brought to you so you could go through the clothes and make of list of what they will need for summer, file and paint your nails, sort through old dress patterns and throw out the ones not needed, organize the sewing drawer, start an embroidery project, darn socks and throw out those without mates, do paint by number. (By the way they have some hard paint by numbers to do now and they look like true paintings)Or you could have your wife buy you some ceramic figurines for the garden or your office and you could paint those. Ok you probably think all this stuff is corny but if I were down I would love to do all of thoe. Probably because I'm a woman. Hey it's just a suggestion. Ok you're going to throw it out the window. Well at least I tried. :) Here's sending lots of get well vibes to you!

Important: Because depression is not a part of my personality, and because this funk is so severe, I did some web research for possible causes.

It seems that post-operative depression is relatively common for all surgeries. (It's a real problem with heart surgery I guess, because it's an indicator that recovery will be difficult.) Many people experience bouts of depression after knee surgery. Their advice, as trite as it seems, is "hang in there". (Here is an excellent ACL surgery diary that discusses many of the things I've gone through, too.)

Also, depression is also a symptom of narcotics withdrawal. Vicodin, the painkiller prescribed for my pain, is a narcotic, and I was consuming large quantities in the days following my surgery. I took thirty-two Vicodin from noon on the day of the surgery until noon on the following Tuesday. I then took another twenty-four Vicodin before stopping Sunday night at 9 p.m. That's an average of six per day, though I was actually taking about eight per day at one time. To me, that's a lot of Vicodin.

Addiction to narcotic painkillers is a realy problem, and I think I may have narrowly averted such a disaster. I'm experiencing several common side-effects of narcotic withdrawal: hot and cold flashes (nobody believes me on this, but it's true), depression, etc. Also interesting to note (if somewhat more information than most people need): while on the Vicodin, I had three bowel movements in ten days. That rate has increased. I'm also urinating much more often.

To summarize: it seems likely that my depression is due to a combination of recovering from the knee surgery and due to narcotic withdrawal. I suspect the worst is over, and I'll be my regular happy, goofy self before long. (It's interesting to note that the over-analysis remains, even in depression!)

Oh yeah: the most depressing thing from reading about other ACL surgeries is that I'll be wearing that cursed brace (others call it an "immobilizer", which is apt) for several more weeks. ARGH!

Re: Depression Well, this will be cold comfort, but welcome to my world.

I have a number of coping mechanisms. The ones that work best involve talking to other people. Yes, you're somewhat immobilized. Chat with people on the phone, talk Andrew into driving out to Canby and having dinner with you, etc., etc.

Drop me an e-mail if you get too down. I'm a pretty good listener, and I know what you're feeling. And I tend to be fairly responsive, e-mail wise...

Hang in there!

Oh, JD, very sorry that you're recovery has been so emotionally straining as well as physically tough. Really frightening to think of you having narcotic withdrawl, but with the amount you were taking I guess I can see it...

I'll extend the same offer as Dana: don't be afraid to drop me a line.

Dear JD. I'm so garteful to read of someone else suffering depression/withdrawal as I am attempting to endure. My ACL replacement was inadequate in the face of all of the arthritis. So 8 months later I had a total knee replacement. The recovery from the ACL and meniscus-repair was a cakewalk. Knowing that we all revover differently, I was nonetheless envious when my 73 year-old neighbor achieved 135 degrees flexion only 3 weeks following surgery! He is climbing stairs with the aid of a cane! He was off narcotics 4 days after surgery! I'm no stranger to pain and can tolerate a lot after a dozen or so kidney stones. But after being on Percocet for 2 weeks and steadily weaning myself off of them, I still feel like I'm going through some form of withdrawal as I am absolutely exhausted, no appetite, gastro-distress, weak, diahrea, and surprisingly for me...extremely depressed. I have no desire to do anything! Forget reading, computer or socializing. Were it not for my loving daughter-in-law, I would not be aware of this chatroom. The best advice has been talking to others. Thanks for writing.

JSL